


It Was Justified

by shadowolfhunter



Category: Justified
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-12
Updated: 2013-11-14
Packaged: 2017-12-19 07:28:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/881071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowolfhunter/pseuds/shadowolfhunter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Raylan Givens was unlucky in love. His wife had left him three times, his girlfriend had ransacked his crummy apartment, stolen his money, been the cause of him being beaten up and left him with a van full of poultry. So Raylan's facing a lonely, joyless Christmas when fate and Secret Santa intervene. Having drawn Rachel as his Secret Santa present, Raylan hasn't got a clue. An unusual book shop supplies the answer to both questions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Book Binder

It was exactly eight days to Christmas. The usual office draw had gone around, and Raylan had found himself in receipt of a little tag with Rachel’s name on it. Secret Santa.

By some weird quirk of nature, Raylan Givens had never actually drawn a female co-worker’s name in a Secret Santa draw… ever.

Men he could buy for. Jim, Jack or Vodka. No problem.

Women required more thought. Female, check. Co-worker, not witness, (not sleeping with her), not girlfriend (the sleeping thing taken as read), potential to be girlfriend… maybe… Taste in music? Maybe too personal? Book? Something cute and fluffy didn’t girls like cute and fluffy… Raylan tried to imagine Rachel in the same context as cute and fluffy, and while he could picture it, Art and Tim would never let him live that down.

Dammit.

It was a slow day at the office, Raylan had ploughed through his paperwork in order to leave early for lunchtime. He had eight days to crack this, and he needed every second he could get.

Lacking even the slightest inspiration, he thought he would start with coffee.

It was a coffee shop he hadn’t patronized before, and while he waited he glanced idly around. The coffee shop was on the end of a small row of shops, with more on the other side of the road. 

One in particular caught his eye. A bookshop. It looked different from the local book chains, and he found himself intrigued by the colorful signage proclaiming Life: Words Included in large bright letters.

He ordered his coffee, paid for it and headed out, across the road to the shop that seemed to be beckoning to him.

[][][][][][][][]

The store started out pretty much as Raylan expected to find a book store. There were several shelves at the front which had the usual mainstream book choices that he expected, as he moved further into the store things were different.

The books were different for a start. Titles and authors that he had never heard of, one in particular caught Raylan’s eye and he paused to pick it up.

The book was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship, handmade and individually numbered. The feel of the thing in his hands, he couldn’t help running his finger tips down the spine, feeling the quality of the paper inside, a quick glance told him that it was beautifully illustrated.

As far as he was concerned, his search stopped here. He turned to look for a cash register.

There was a long counter at the back of the shop and though he couldn’t see a cash register he headed there in hope of finding help.

Behind the counter, a girl, sitting at a table, in front of her a neatly folded row of inserts, and Raylan paused, fascinated, watching her neatly hand stitch the binding together.

She was a pretty girl, Raylan estimated late twenties, long wavy brown hair carelessly swept up, secured, he noticed with a single green bamboo chopstick. A casual glance at the bowl on the edge of the table found the chopstick’s mate. Raylan grinned.

“Miss.”

“Just one minute, I promise.” She didn’t take her eyes from her work, but she smiled and Raylan found himself wishing that she would look up, so he could get a better look at her face.

His wish granted a moment later, when she reached the end of the row and laid her work on the table.

“How can I help you?”

Her voice was soft and attractive, which went perfectly with the pretty green eyes that were looking up at him.

Raylan was used to the effect he had on women. Used to the calculating look which would come into their eyes, and the way they would set out to impress him. He liked them tall and leggy and blonde.

This girl did none of those things. She smiled at him with simple open friendliness. Her smile was infectious, and Raylan couldn’t help the genuine grin that spread across his face.

“Well, ma’am, I’m lookin’ for a Christmas present for a co-worker, and this book seems just about perfect.”

“Excellent choice, Lorna is very popular.” She reached out a hand.

He handed the book over. As he did, he recalled the tiny picture of the author in the back of the book. “Hey, the author wouldn’t happen to be you?”

A very slight blush stained her cheeks. “Well, yes.” Her eyes connected with his and then slid shyly away, “you’re very observant, most people don’t make the connection.”

There was something in the way of her shyness that made Raylan want to slay dragons for her and bring her roses, but he clamped down on those feelings. “Well, ma’am, I would hope so.” He eased his jacket aside just enough for her to see his badge clipped to his belt, but not his weapon. He didn’t want to scare her.

“A US Marshal, huh.” There was something in her tone that suggested that she had picked up on the teasing note in Raylan’s, and had upped the stakes a little.

“Yes, ma’am.” The sweetness of her smile was definitely piquing his interest, he wondered how he could spin out this conversation a little more.

He wasn’t a big fan of giggling females, but her giggle was shy and charming, “oh please, not ma’am… Elsa. Like the lion.”

“Your parents named you for a lion?” He knew he was laying on the southern aw-shucks charm a bit heavy, but this was the first time in a long time that he had felt a connection that went deeper than his libido.

Elsa was different, he could feel it.

[][][][][][][][]

He had lingered as long as he could, if he was late back to the office Art would come down on him like a ton of bricks. The book, in its brown paper bag, calling to him from his coat pocket. He hadn’t opted for gift wrapping, figuring that he should do that himself, though lord knew he wasn’t much good at the whole parcel wrapping thing. It was a book, how hard could that be?

It was a slow, boring day, Raylan hated paperwork, even though he accepted that it was a necessary evil. Bringing the case files up to date on a fugitive that he and Tim had apprehended was driving him crazy.

“Y’weren’t kiddin’ when y’said y’handwritin’ was barely legible.” Raylan squinted at the two post its adhering to the file index sheet on top, covered in Tim’s illegible scrawl, then shot a scowl at his unrepentant partner on the other side of the partition.

Tim just grinned. Raylan tilted his head and upped the scowl to pissed instead of exasperated. Which had no effect, Tim’s grin grew wider, and a devilish light danced in his eyes.

“I don’t miss.” The sniper said.

“’cept when it comes to dotting the I’s and crossing the t’s.” Raylan heaved the offending, over-stuffed file onto the partition, “what the hell does that say?” He stabbed a long index finger at the bottom post it.

Tim squinted. Shook his head. “Darned if I know.” He said.

Raylan closed his eyes. Thought about counting to ten. A vision of a pair of pretty green eyes distracted him from his counting.

“RAYLAN.”

“Huh.” Raylan almost jumped. Tim was looking at him strangely, and Art had come out of his office. Damn. “What?”

“I said I’d take the file, okay.” Tim said with exaggerated patience. “Say, what is up with you? Y’in love or something?”

Raylan felt his cheeks turn scarlet. Took in Tim and Art’s delighted grins and wished the floor would open up and swallow him whole. The clock on the wall said checking out time, he shoved the file at Tim, grabbed his hat and coat, mumbled something about seeing them tomorrow and left before it could get any weirder.

[][][][][][][][]

He didn’t want to sit down in the bar and drink. He wanted to hide himself away and not deal with people. So he bought himself a bottle of Jim and headed upstairs to his crummy little apartment.

It was cold. The one rather unfortunate radiator had some serious air bubbles in it, and Raylan had meant to bleed the thing before the cold weather set in, but somehow he had never gotten round to it. So it gave off very little heat.

Damn.

The one place that was guaranteed to be warm was his bed.

He stripped, showered, found a pair of sleep pants and a long sleeve top that was warm enough to go over his usual wifebeater, and climbed into bed. He was about to pour himself three fingers of Jim when he realised that he’d put the book on the bedside table too.

Jim forgotten, Raylan stared at the brown paper bag. The book seemed to be begging him to pick it up. Rachel’s Christmas present.

He shrugged, he could buy her another one.

He poured himself the promised three fingers, and settled down to read.

[][][][][][][][]

The story was simple, charming, funny, part romance, part adventure. Entranced, Raylan kept reading.

By the time he was finished it was two a.m. and the three fingers of bourbon sat, untouched, in the glass.

In a daze, Raylan put the book down, and turned out the bedside lamp. He lay there in the dark awhile, recalling a pair of green eyes, and some dark brown wavy hair haphazardly caught up with a chopstick.

[][][][][][][][]

Raylan glanced up at the clock on the wall. In five minutes he could legitimately go out to lunch. On an office day, he would usually wait for the one p.m. slot, figuring that this made for a shorter afternoon. Always better when there was nothing to do other than paperwork. But today he couldn’t wait to escape.

Both Art and Tim had been giving him funny looks all morning. After his blushing escape from the office the night before, Raylan assumed that they would be giving him grief all day. Other than the funny looks, they had both held off, but he could sense the anticipation.

The second hand reached twelve. And Raylan was out of his chair. Art drew breath as though he was about to say something, “I’d love to discuss this with you some other time, boss, but right now my presence is required elsewhere.” Raylan had his coat on and his hat and was out of the door before either Art or Tim could react.

Shunning the elevator he headed straight for the stairs.

[][][][][][][][]

Amy Denning eyed the tall, good-looking man that entered the shop oh my, “your cowboy’s back.”

“Amy…!” Elsa bent over the latest book she was putting together in a vain attempt to hid her blush. “He’s not my cowboy.”

“Oh yeah.” Amy painted her most brilliant, sexy, come-hither smile on her face. Not that she would ever hurt her friend, because it was clear that Elsa had taken a shine to him, but it served to test the waters.

“Can I help you, sir?”

He smiled, he was polite, with liberal helpings of that courtly, slightly old-fashioned southern charm which Amy was sure mesmerized fugitives, but he never really took his eyes from Elsa.

Amy gave it two minutes before she slipped away into the stacks ostensibly to check on some price, but to give them the space they so obviously wanted.

Returning from her lunch break yesterday she had found Elsa bent over her sketch pad. The sketch made Amy’s eyes widen and stare at her friend. Elsa was almost painfully shy at times, this man had clearly made a big impact on her. Then seeing the original walk into their store, Amy suddenly wished that she possessed Elsa’s artistic gifts. Amy was a romantic at heart and this was like something from a courtly romance novel.

She peered through the stacks, watching as the cowboy said something to Elsa, who blushed and nodded. He’s asking you out… accept… Elsa. Amy was prepared to rush over there and virtually push her friend out of the door.

She didn’t have to. Elsa called out “Amy, I’m going to lunch.”

“See you later… Have fun!” Amy called back, smiling to herself when her friend didn’t reply, too caught up in whatever her handsome escort was saying.


	2. Romantic Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raylan falls in love. His fellow marshals just want to know who his new girlfriend is.

Raylan Givens stretched, and rolled onto his stomach, burrowing into the pillows and cushions on Elsa’s daybed. Turned his gaze towards his new girlfriend working hard at pinning up a shirt on the dress-making form and smiled. Thinking how much his life had changed in just three short weeks.

It was strange and unexpected, he’d never really felt like this before. Secure. Elsa was simply different. Unlike Winona she didn’t need or want to be endlessly entertained, or reassured that he was going to come back. If he had a hard day she didn’t push to know all the details, or give him a hard time. Unlike Lindsay, Elsa cared, she would wrap her arms round him, hug him tight and charm him back to smiles. It was like having a heavy load lifted away. It was strange too because Elsa felt like a friend not just a lover. Raylan wasn’t used to being friends with the women he dated.

“I can feel your thinking all the way over here.”

He loved the sound of her voice, smooth and sweet.

“Jus’ thinkin’ I must be th’ luckiest man alive.” He watched her eyes crinkle at the corners. She placed the last of the pins and sat down on the edge of the bed. Reached out a hand to run it through his hair. Raylan grinned, and nuzzled against the cushion he was cuddling. Elsa was the only one who never nagged him to get a haircut. He knew he really did need to get a cut, his hair was far too long, but even though he was getting tired of the comments, his naturally contrary nature dictated that he wasn’t going to do anything about it just because people were telling him to do it.

He was almost tempted to push it until there was some kind of official notification about it. Maybe.

“Why would you be thinkin’ that?” She was imitating his accent, and he reared up to tug her all the way down next to him. Elsa squeaked in surprise, which turned into a sexy little giggle as he swept her beneath him, catching his weight on his forearms he stared down into her face.

 _Gentle, sweet, loving Elsa_. He leaned in then, brushing his lips against hers. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she pulled him down on top of her, until they were nose to nose, and his full body weight was pressing her back into the pillows and mattress.

Her green eyes stared into his. She smiled, and tugged him down for a kiss. Raylan relaxed into her, knowing that she could take his weight, and loved the feel of him pressed up against her. She was a contrary thing, his Elsa… strong, confident and sexy, yet shy and modest.

In the eight days before Christmas, he had fallen in love.

His new love was nearly perfect. He could even have suspected her of being too good to be true if it weren’t for her cooking.

Whilst Winona, Ava and Lindsay were domestic goddesses, Elsa could have burned water. Raylan didn’t care. He put out the fire in her frying pan, swept her up in his arms for a big sloppy kiss and they went out for chicken and biscuits while the vent worked overtime to clear the smoke and the smell from the whole house.

Her arms were wrapped around his neck, one of her hands cradled the back of his head, her beautiful green eyes looked up into his, warmth and love in their depths, and Raylan abandoned the sweet memories and let himself sink into the pure joy of loving and being loved in return.

[][][][][][][][]

Tim Gutterson hunched down in his chair, and pretended to concentrate on paperwork. It was Friday, and the whole office was invited to Art’s to christen a new barbecue, even if it was February.

Normally Tim would feel a certain reluctance, however fond of his boss and his co-workers he was, spending time with them all outside of work was not his favorite pastime. But somehow Art’s wife had found out about Raylan’s new girlfriend, and an invitation had been issued.

Neither Tim or Rachel had missed Raylan’s sudden discomfort, when Art had mentioned said invitation. This was going to be simply too good to miss.

It had begun with Raylan’s now infamous shopping trip just before Christmas. Suddenly Raylan was disappearing for lunch every day at the same time. Attempts had been made to follow; Tim blushed at that thought, looked up from his paperwork and caught Rachel’s eye, her discomfort over that particular episode as keen as his own.

Almost two months had passed and no one even knew her name. Just that Raylan was very deeply smitten and this was really serious.

Tim had to admit that he was puzzled. Raylan’s romantic adventures were noisy, messy, ill-thought out and invariably ended in disaster, and the whole office had witnessed enough of Raylan and his beautiful ex-wife to know that that particular fish was never going to fly. Even if they did have a child between them. 

He sighed, tonight they would meet the mysterious new woman in Raylan’s life and get some answers to those nagging questions.

[][][][][][][][]

Art Mullen prided himself on caring about his deputies, and never playing favorites. But even Art had to admit that Raylan Givens was the exception. He had known Raylan for ten years, seen the sad combustion of Raylan’s first marriage, watched in horror and trepidation as Raylan screwed up the barrier between work and play, slept with a witness, moved over a bar and slept with the bartender who robbed him and hurt him and left him in another emotional melt-down mess. So he had to admit to himself that he really feared what Raylan might have dug up to destroy himself this time.

Rachel, Nelson and Tim had arrived one after the other with ten minutes to spare, as he looked around at the anxious faces, anxiety that they were all attempting to hide, Art realized that they feared for their friend and were there to protect him if they could.

It would have been funny, only it was so damn sad and sweet, the Chief almost teared up.

The knock on the door almost made him jump.

Art pulled himself together and opened the door.

[][][][][][][][]

Tim and Rachel were trying not to stare, and failing miserably. Elsa was very, very different from Raylan’s usual choice in women. For a start she was not leggy and blonde.

Petite and pretty, brown hair, green eyes and a sweet smile, she was also smart, it didn’t take Tim five seconds to work that one out. Perhaps a little shy, but she was also socially adept, and Tim found himself warming to her. Just maybe this one was not going to chuck Raylan’s heart in a blender and hit frappe.

As the room began to fill up, Tim noticed that wherever Raylan and Elsa were in the room, they would gravitate back together at regular intervals. Like magnets. They didn’t seem to even be aware that they were doing it.

Rachel watched Raylan for a while. With Elsa by his side, Raylan was relaxed and happy, when they were split up, his eyes would track her wherever she went. It was clearly subconscious, and Rachel really hoped that this time Raylan had found someone who could put his needs high on her list of priorities. It seemed as though Elsa really did speak Raylan.

[][][][][][][][]

“You were amazing tonight.” Raylan tugged his girlfriend closer. Elsa rested her head against his shoulder and blushed.

“Amazing, huh?” She turned in his arms, “I don’t think I was amazing. I think the people who you work with are pretty amazing though.” Elsa placed her hand over his heart. “You realize that every last one of them was ready to show me the door if I was going to be bad for you.”

Raylan held her gaze for a long moment, she could read the shock in his eyes, the sudden brightness, the muscle that flickered along his jaw line as he tried to contain the wave of emotion. He didn’t do obvious emotions, kept it all bottled inside, but Elsa seemed to know instinctively how to reach him.

She encouraged him too. Told him to swallow his pride and make up with Winona. Raylan had his doubts, but Elsa’s advice worked. To the extent that Winona wondered aloud how Raylan had actually managed to do something right and get a girlfriend that she found acceptable in the context of their daughter.

He pulled Elsa closer. Articulating his feelings was not one of Raylan’s stronger points, but this time it just came out. Unlike his victim impact statement in court when Dickie Bennett had killed his aunt, this one wasn’t a disaster.

“I love you.” He said.


	3. Something Stupid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raylan tries to get something past his girlfriend.

Elsa moved back on the day bed until her back was against the ornate cushions that formed the back of the seat. Stretched her legs out at an angle to leave enough space for Raylan.

He arrived home stumbling, nothing like his usual confident swagger; had insisted that he was fine, that he was just bruised and rest and sleep would fix the problem. He had needed help to get his shirt off, and when she had seen the beginnings of the bruising around his shoulder and down his ribs, she wanted to argue. But he looked so beat up, tired and out of sorts she was going to humor him for a while.

He crawled across the cushions and slumped into her lap, his injured shoulder uppermost. Elsa gently bunched the cushions to try and give him a little support, pushing the big blue silk-covered one under his elbow to support his arm. Then very carefully she packed the two ice packs and the pack of frozen peas around his shoulder.

He whimpered.

Raylan never whimpered, he was as tough as old army boot leather and this was scaring the living daylights out of her. She wanted to be angry with him because he was scaring her.

Raylan knew she was angry, and scared, and his girlfriend had a right to be, because he was messed up. As badly as he did not want to admit that something was seriously wrong with his shoulder, he knew he had to go to the emergency room.

But Elsa’s lap was comfortable, the pain was manageable as long as he didn’t move anywhere, and her fingers stroking through his hair was spreading a feeling of well-being through his psyche.

“Guess I really should call Winona,” Elsa said, Raylan frowned, but kept his eyes closed, “tell her that Daddy isn’t up to taking Francesca this weekend.”

Raylan’s eyes snapped open, he looked up at Elsa, and bit his lower lip at the jolt that spiraled out from his shoulder. “I’m…” he gasped as the jolt resolved into a sharp sting somewhere deep inside his injured arm.

“Raylan Givens, if you say fine.” Elsa’s eyes flashed. “I won’t be responsible for my actions.”

Her words were angry, but her hands were still gentle as she stroked his hair back. He moved to try and sit up, and winced as he conceded that she had a point. He had stiffened up in just the few short minutes since he lay down. His right arm was almost useless.

Elsa’s hand curved around the back of his neck. “Ray, lay back down.” He tried again. “NOW!” She didn’t often take that sharp tone with him and Raylan was too sore and tired and damaged to argue. She reached into the patch pocket of the colourful overshirt that she was wearing and drew out her cell. “I’m calling reinforcements,” Raylan’s frown deepened, “we’re going to the ER and then I may call Winona.”

Raylan screwed his eyes closed. “Raylan Givens, she’s the mother of your child, she has a right to know you’re injured.”

He conceded that point too. “Coming round to my way of thinking, huh?” Her fingers were buried deep in his overly long hair, stroking his skull gently but firmly. Elsa gave incredible head massages. Despite the pain, Raylan was practically purring.

He lost a good bit of time then. Vaguely aware that Elsa had called someone, even though he didn’t like things being taken out of his hands, he gave in to the urge to close his eyes and drift a little. He could feel the warmth of her lithe body, her gentle hands anchoring him and that was good enough.

A knock on the door, Elsa called out “It’s open.” He was about to admonish her for her sweet openness, which was charming, and beautiful and one of the things he loved most about her, but entirely mis-placed in this context, him down and injured and utterly unable to defend her; when the tone changed entirely.

He felt her tense. “What are you doing here?” He hadn’t thought Elsa could manage to have that hardness, that level of command in her tone.

He couldn’t move, the pain was too much and Elsa’s grasp on the back of his neck was firm and unyielding and he realised she wasn’t nervous, just angry.

“Well, Miss Elsa, I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced. My name is…”

“I know who you are, Boyd Crowder.” He really had never heard that tone before, damn if she wasn’t defending him, protecting him, and damn if that wasn’t some kind of turn on. “I know exactly everything about you. Raylan’s not up to seeing you.”

He wanted to draw, to roll over and defend her, but his Glock was in its holster on the side table and his injury had sapped his strength, he opened his eyes in time to see a blur, and his startled brain caught up with his eyes and he processed the revolver in his love’s hand.

Behind him he heard a sharp intake of breath, and the small sound as Boyd took a backwards step. He didn’t need to see it, he could hear it.

Footsteps and voices, and it turned out that Elsa’s reinforcements were Tim and Rachel to help get him on his feet, and Art’s wife Leslie with her nursing bag to check him out and do something to immobilize his arm for the journey. In the chaos Boyd slipped away.

Elsa and Tim got him out to the car, Tim’s SUV, Rachel drove, which pissed Raylan off a little, he had never gotten the chance to drive Tim’s SUV. “Rachel will take care of it,” was Tim’s snarky answer to Raylan’s question, Raylan growled that he would be just as good at taking care of Tim’s truck. Tim’s left eyebrow shot into his hairline. “And we’re taking my truck because you take such good care of your own vehicle…” Raylan tried not to shoot a glance at his own truck, just beyond the Town Car that was his Marshals’ Service ride. The old green pick-up had seen better days, that was f’sure. There may have been a pothole in the road, because the SUV lurched just a little then, and Raylan’s snarky come-back was forgotten as he screwed his eyes shut and bright white sparks lit up behind his jammed shut eyelids.

Raylan’s law enforcement status and Leslie’s inside knowledge got him seen immediately, and the rest of it passed in a blur. Every time it got too much, Elsa was there, holding his hand, stroking his hair back, just talking to him. At one point he had vague memories of asking Elsa to sign his consent form, because he was right handed and his arm wouldn’t work.

He woke in a hospital room, some kind of plastic brace over his shoulder, and his right arm wrapped up firmly against his body, his fingers resting against his left shoulder. It ached like hell. 

There was movement off to his left, Winona was sitting in a hard plastic chair next to his bed, at Raylan’s puzzled frown she grimaced and said “Elsa is in the bathroom getting a shower and a change of clothes, the poor girl has been here all night for you Raylan.”

Memories of Elsa’s hands and soft voice soothing him through his pain and discomfort nudged the edge of Raylan’s slightly confused memory. “Huh?” Hardly his most brilliant riposte, but he was feeling a little under the weather.

Winona continued, “I’ve changed my plans, you can have Francesca next weekend.”

Raylan didn’t like that. “But…”

Winona cut him off before he could object further. “No buts,” she said firmly, “Your shoulder is badly messed up, you have a cracked collar bone and a partial dislocation. I am not even going to ask how that happened. They’ve managed to put everything back and wrapped you up like a mummy. You can’t manage Frankie this weekend, Raylan.” Winona got to her feet. “I have to go now, and I think you have some bridges to mend.” She leant over to kiss him gently on the cheek. “Don’t mess this one up cowboy, we were a bad habit but you might actually have a real shot with Elsa, and if I have to have a step-mom for Francesca, I can’t think of a better one.”

He listened to the sound of her heels as she left the room. His eyes fixed on the bathroom door which opened slowly.

Raylan Givens was used to seeing anger, hurt and disappointment on the faces of the women who were unwise enough to try and have a relationship with him. The look in Elsa’s eyes was different, just worry.

He sighed, and held out his good hand towards her. “Elsa.”

Elsa sat in the hard plastic chair and put her hand in Raylan’s. “Don’t think I’m not mad at you.” She fixed him with a steely glare. “Everyone is mad at you. What possessed you?”

If Raylan could have shrugged he might have tried it, “It seemed like a good idea at the time?” He tried to look appealingly innocent.

Elsa rolled her eyes. “Don’t be disingenuous, it really doesn’t suit you. I meant when you were done being Captain America, why didn’t you accept Rachel’s offer of a lift to the hospital?”

Raylan’s usual litany of excuses and smart remarks died on his tongue. “Pride.” He admitted, and squeezed her hand. “Sorry.”


End file.
